Jane Smiley - Golden Age

There are many ironies here, but I will refrain from pointing them out, as even I understand that pedantry is sometimes out of place.

I look forward to seeing you all.

With love from Alexis, and your uncle

Henry

From The New York Times , Oct. 12, 2008,

New York and Region:

CONGRESSMAN HITS A ROUGH PATCH

Voters in Brooklyn may be forgiven if they find themselves confused by recent events involving their representative of the last sixteen years, Richard Langdon. His constituents are beginning to wonder if Congressman Langdon has been unduly influenced by his twin brother, Michael Langdon, a bond trader and manager of Chemosh Securities, a subsidiary of Wells Fargo Bank. Michael Langdon was recently arrested for forging papers that transferred his mother’s funds into his business’s account without her knowledge. Chemosh was shut down, and Wells Fargo has issued a statement saying that they are looking into “the last eleven years of investments managed by Michael Langdon for further irregularities.” How close have the Langdon twins been? And what influence has Michael Langdon exerted in Washington? When asked, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi was willing to say only that “A look at the Congressman’s record shows that he has voted for Wall Street more often than he has voted against them.” She is right — even apart from the most recent financial bailouts, such as TARP, Congressman Langdon’s voting record is more closely aligned with that of the Republicans than with his next door neighbor in Congress, Jerry Nadler.

The word on the street (the street being Flatbush Avenue) is not so much outraged as perplexed. “Yes, I have always voted for him,” says Bernice Stein, a lifelong Brooklyn resident and Democrat. “But what’s the alternative? It seems like the Republicans just throw their silliest candidates up against him. It’s become sort of a race to the bottom.”

Congressman Langdon has presented himself for years as aggressively fighting for alternative energy solutions, but evidently to no effect. Vito Lopez, chairman of the Brooklyn Democratic Party, says, “Look, Richard is a decent person and his heart, well, at least he has one, you know? But he hasn’t filled Scheuer’s shoes, and that’s been a concern for all of us for years now. We have to eventually ask, what are we getting from this guy? His challenger looks pretty good this time around, though I bite my tongue before saying so.”

Richard Langdon is a twin, younger by four minutes than his brother Michael. Their father was a well-respected defense contractor and World War II veteran. When Mr. Langdon was first elected, in 1992, the outgoing representative, who was a much-decorated veteran and a real power in the House, said that he had great hopes for the young man: “He’s articulate, he has the right ideas, he’s a brilliant talker who knows how to keep a bargain and to make a deal. He has a real future doing right by our citizens.” Congressman Jerrold Nadler has said, “I think we all have to admit that making deals and reaching across the aisle hasn’t been a valuable skill during the Clinton administration or, especially, during the Bush administration, but I was surprised at how readily Richard Langdon caved.” Harold Rickman, a Brooklyn constituent, says, “Look, I’m sure he means well. But every time I heard about him going uptown to the brother’s place, I had to wonder. Your heart may be in the right place, but that doesn’t mean your hand isn’t in your pocket, too.”

In the end, Congressman Richard Langdon remains something of a riddle. He is well-liked by many among those he has served, but whether he deserves their regard is, at this point, still undecided.

JARED WAS FIDDLING with the espresso maker, his third cup. He lost his temper and smacked the machine (new, De’Longhi) to the floor. He did not bend down to clean up the mess. Instead, he confessed that his company was bust, his employees were let go (had been for two weeks), and the reason was that he had borrowed money against the company to invest with Michael. That was the Friday before Thanksgiving. Janet’s first response had been to find herself an AA meeting. She closed the refrigerator door, picked up her car keys from the kitchen counter, and walked out. It was 9:00 a.m. (Thank heavens, Jonah was at school.) She drove around Palo Alto, detesting the eucalyptus trees and their breezy shade as she always did in a crisis, until she finally saw the sign outside of a church. She went in, sat down, waited for the meeting to commence, stayed quiet the whole time, returned home in a daze. Jared was lying on their bed. She said nothing about the fact that he could have at least done the breakfast dishes. She lay down beside him on top of the covers. They were both fully dressed, right down to shoes and socks. Jared had never failed before. He was the reliable one, the sane one, the one who got impatient with her irritability and grudge holding. How he had come to invest with Michael, Janet could not imagine, but she knew she would hear the story, though she didn’t want to hear it at that moment.

She had taken his hand, she had come up with the response she wanted to come up with — sympathy, solidarity. Remember when their monthly income was something like a thousand bucks before taxes, when they lived a block from the railroad crossing, when they didn’t have a car? Remember, said Jared, when we tried to make our own mozzarella that time the milk went sour and we were afraid to throw it out? They laughed. Now, two months later, that was a poignant memory.

More had to come out, and it did: There was a lien on the house. It was not a second mortgage; the mortgage had first priority, and the mortgage was small, only eighty thousand dollars — he had kept up with those payments.

A day went by. Janet understood that each item of the confession was like a circle on the floor that seemed secure, but could, or would, turn instantly into a hole, dropping her to a deeper, darker level. On Saturday, she asked who had made the loan.

Washington Mutual.

Why hadn’t she been told? Why hadn’t she had to sign any papers? Her name was on the deed to the house, on the mortgage.

It was a business loan. The loan officer was friendly. He overlooked some of the paperwork. He wanted to make the loan.

Janet said, “Washington Mutual went bust. They were sold to Chase.”

“They own the loan now. Or don’t. No one is quite sure. I’ve been talking to them, but everything is so chaotic.”

Bad luck — Janet and Jared agreed, he wasn’t to blame, just a piece of bad luck.

On Monday, after an amicable two days, Janet broached the topic of Michael. She hadn’t known that Jared had talked to Michael, had seen Michael. How in the world could he imagine that—

Then it came out: Michael had set him up. Jared realized that now, but had not realized it in August, when it happened. Did Janet remember when they went for a few days to the Ventana Inn with the Trycks, and Janet had decided not to go with them to the Post Ranch for lunch because the weather was so gloomy?

Janet did remember this — she had opted for a facial.

Michael and some client of his had been there, finishing breakfast in the Sierra Mar. They said they were on their way to Santa Barbara, taking the long route. Jared had been in a bad mood, complaining about business, wishing he could expand. He thought nothing more of it until a few days later, when Michael called him on his cell and told him that, if he wanted to expand, Michael had the investment for him. He was sure to hit it big before the end of the year. If he put in $750,000, he could get several million out, easy as falling off a log, no downside. The client he’d been with (driving a Bentley) was already in — why not Jared? Jared was driving their Toyota Highlander Hybrid, two years old, a car to be proud of, except at the Post Ranch Inn.